He storms the night
His prey in sight
The conqueror
The frantic necromancer

Rancorous words from his poisoned lips
Rip your flesh like a Devils whip
The impure touch of his finger tips
Flares the mortal wound in your wrist

Razor nails burrows through your face
Feel the wrath of Hell penetrate
With the strength of a thousand wars
He crush the holy “Die by his sword”

When the burgundy sun goes down
All heaven slayed and fallen to the ground
With evil splendor he triumphs the sky
With claws of metal he’ll make you die

Triumph of the blasphemer
Triumph of the blasphemer